ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. — Am I to understand that you intend to plead guilty, Sir Rowland?" he added. "You hear that," cried Mrs. She closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert. His suspicions at first fell upon you.
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